Matter of Mates
by Colorful Swirl King
Summary: There is no way of knowing that a person is somebodies mate until the persons inheritance. Before that you could be anything friends, lovers, rivals, enemies, strangers anything. While being somebodys mate does not necessarily ensure that you will be love. Such is the case of a Harry James Potter. Abuse, neglect, language, mentions of sex and rape, M-preg, yaoi/slash, M/M/M.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Matter of Mates

**Summary**: There is no way of knowing that a person is somebodies mate until the persons inheritance. Before that you could be anything friends, lovers, rivals, enemies, strangers anything. While being somebodys mate does not necessarily ensure that you will be love. Such is the case of a Harry James Potter.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and nothing is owned by me.

**Warnings**: Abuse, neglect, heartbreak, mentions of sex and rape, M-preg, yaoi/slash, M/M/M, language. FYI, not my problem if you don't listen to warnings ;)

Is it everybody's goal to make grape peoples most hated flavor?

* * *

If it started anywhere it started on the day of his seventeenth birthday. The day before it, actually almost a whole week before his birthday. It started the day he was kidnapping wasn't that eventful itself, somebody just shot him in the back with a stunner while at Diagon Alley then Portkeyed his sorry ass out of the place.

It was Death Eaters that kidnapped him, of course. Because really nobody would seek him out unless it was somehow connected to Voldemort.

For the few days before his birthday Harry was beaten till black in their loving care. On the night before his birthday he was blindfolded taken to another room and then tied up kneeling with his hands behind his back and his head up. Harry could hear whispers and muffled footsteps, but he could not understand what was happening. Then the pain came and oh Merlin it hurt so bad. He didn't know how long it went on. A decade? A century? A Millennium? A second maybe even two?

Somewhere in the pain a countdown began to his birthday. Three, Two, One. A new pain began then one that mixed with the other pain intensifying it, and it hurt so bad he just wanted to black out but the pain was just so bad that he couldn't, couldn't blackout, couldn't be allowed that sweet mercy. The pain just hurt so much that he didn't even hear the overpowering yell of stop.

* * *

Voldemort was pleased. The incompetent boy was captured by some of his Death Eaters and was tortured before the ritual that would remove his Horcrux and return it to himself. Voldemort was also pleased because it was an extremely painful ritual for the boy and to him that was all the better.

So the cruelest Dark Lord of all time stood watching as a boy almost four times his junior scream and thrashed in pain. And boy did he enjoy it.

Soon the clock was to strike midnight and the boy was to die only a minute after. The clock striked midnight and something changed in the air it took only a few precious seconds to pinpoint what had changed. He yelled for the ritual to stop and then ordered that all except Lucius, his mate and lover, leave. As soon as the room was cleared out the room the Malfoy Lord spoke, "What do we do with him now?"

And honestly Voldemort didn't want to know.

* * *

Harry was kept in a room after that. It was a relatively big room almost as big as the whole upper floor of the Dursley house. The room, his room, had a gigantic fluffy bed off to the right a study in the corner next to the big windows filled with the a few odd and end books. In the middle was a big comfortable couch and a coffee table. There was a a bathroom connected to the room with a large bath and a shower along with a walk in closet.

No body visited or sought him out now. Nobody besides the Dark Lord and Lucius Malfoy and most of the time it was for releasing pent up frustration, aka sex. The first time they used him like that had been what he figured was a few days after his seventeenth birthday. He cried for days disgusted with himself and the situation as a whole. Harry just didn't understand what was going on why were they keeping him alive, why was he still around? Why, why, why.

Nobody ever told him why. Then again he hasn't talked to anybody in ages. Well that wasn't absolutely totally correct he talked to the house elf, Pixie. She always had chores to do so that wasn't much. Conversing with a house elf was much to begin with anyway.

He didn't try escaping either not after the first times. Harry just didn't try anymore, it wasn't worth it.

* * *

He tried talking a few days ago, his voice came out scratchy from disuse. The black hair boy decided that he would fix that. If only to give himself something to do. So he talked to himself since Pixie was busier and couldn't come to his room anymore. But Harry didn't really know what to talk to himself anymore so he just mummers random thoughts that didn't really hold any meaning but they often ended up staying in his head so it didn't help much.

So Harry found something else to do, sing. It wasn't much and Harry was pretty sure he was a crap singer anyway. Hell, the teen could barely even remember the words to some of the songs he heard. Most of them being Muggle songs that Dudley was blasting from his room at all hours of the day. Harry didn't know that his relatives turned the radio on at full blast just to keep him up a lot of the time while they slept with ear plugs on it their rooms.

Still it helped his voice got better it wasn't as ruff or as scratchy as before so Harry was satisfied that he could at least do something now.

Little did Harry know that he had an audience outside his door. It was the Lestrange brothers tasked with guarding the door which more than kinda pissed them off. They didn't complain to their lord about it the brothers knew better than to do that.

The room had a one way silencing charm so that the Boy Wonder wouldn't be able to hear them. The first few weeks were so goddamn irritating because the boy would not stop crying. Day after day all they could hear is his pathetic sniffling and whimpering. There was silence after that which they relished in and, though they wouldn't admit aloud, worried about. Soon though he started talking about random things a sentence or two before he fell silent. That was fine, but then the singing came. At first it wasn't good or anything his voice still scratchy from disuse, then it became a thing of wonder.

The voice, Harry's voice, was enchanting. They were captured in the pureness of the trapped boy siren like voice.

They never stood a chance.

* * *

Tom Riddle was not by any means happy with that fact that the Potter spawn was his other destined. Lucius was his first mate and that was all he needed.

He boy was hideous. His emerald green eyes that he'd seen shine with excitement, the uncontrollable mane of hair the made him look innocent, his doll like clear skin. He was not what he wanted as a mate.

Least the boy was good for one thing. A nice good fuck.

The Malfoy Lord agreed with his lord, kinda. Potter was appealing to him at least for all the reasons his lover refused to acknowledge. From what his son told him though the boy's attitude left much to be desired. Besides he would never go behind his mates back like that. Well at least he got to fuck the beautiful boy.

* * *

Green eyes watched with a sort of detachment as the airplane flew towards the open window. The paper plane lazily drifted out in to the open air under the sun, to freedom. To freedom he could never reach, never touch, never be under or in, Harry was almost jealous of the ease the paper plane could left the room with. While Harry was stuck, trapped till the day he died no hope just stuck.

A hollow laugh echoed through the room. How far he'd fallen, how pathetic he was. To be jealous of a paper airplane. Pathetic.

"I wanna go can you show me

I wanna meet the strangers like me

I wanna know can you show me

I wanna know about the strangers like me."

Harry hummed the tune before repeating the verse it was in truth the only part of the song he knew. He didn't know what it was from or if it was even from something. It simply had a catchy tune.

"I wanna go can you show me

I wanna meet the strangers like me

I wanna know can you show me

I wanna know about the strangers like me."

He was also pretty sure that he got a few of those words wrong but he didn't mind, because its not like anyone could hear him.

Outside the door the older Lestrange brother silently let the voice flow through him. Merlin if he wasn't already married...

* * *

The stuff he was wearing when they kidnapped him was given back to him somewhere near the end of his first month there. After he had final gotten used to having to walk around the naked or with just a towel on. Not that he moved around much in the first month.

It seemed they didn't look through the clothes or just didn't care that his trunk was in them. Harry didn't look a gift horse in the mouth just silently accepted it as something that would happen and he would never find out why.

His old school books were in there his photo album, books of interest, books he lifted from school, the library, and the Dursleys when he was younger, a wizards chess set, his new broom the Lightning Bolt, and other school supplies and miscellaneous items.

That was something more to do read, expand his knowledge, and learn all that great fantastic shit like Hermione has been getting him to do for ages.

Merlin he was turning cynical. Or maybe he already was.

So he read through the books that he got when he found out Charlies and Bills occupations. They looked so fucking fun and dangerous (there were at least 50 occupation hazards each) he couldn't help but feel jealous of their jobs, disregarding the fact that theres a high probability of death, then ander and then pity for himself and his life. Merlin he needed to drink but could...

"Pixie!"

* * *

He couldn't drink which he didn't mind all too much he didn't want to become a drunkard. The things his Uncle did when he got drunk, Harry shuddered in disgust.

So Harry settled down and read the tales that he loved in his childhood. The Lord of the Rings, The Narnia Chronicles, Moby Dick, along with a few other books. He enjoyed the magic that enthralled him as a child, that magic was so different from the magic he knew and experienced. There was always a prince that saved a/the princesses and protected the innocent.

Where was his prince, his knight in shining armor. Nowhere.

So Harry decided he was gonna write his in.

* * *

Some of the Slytherins from Harry's year were playing outside Not playing, Slytherins don't play in public, they were socializing.

The group was made up of five Slytherins: Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, and last but not least Draco Malfoy. All of whom were sitting in the garden maze chatting and shoving each other around jokingly.

Eventually they settled down in peace and quiet.

"...Don't mind what happens now and then

As long as you be my friend in the end."

The teens looked around at one another before looking around to find the source. All of them felt drawn to the sound lake a mere mortal to sirens call, it was pure and silky and simply a breathtaking voice. A shadow passed over their heads and they noticed a paper airplane fly over there heads.

"...keep you by my side

with my superhuman might

Kryptonite, yeah!"

Teddy pointed towards an open window not too far from where they were seated.

"You called me strong, you called me weak

But still your secrets I will keep

You took for granted all the times

I've never let you down..."

Pansy spotted him first the teen standing in the window another paper plane in hand and looked as though he was about to launch it. "Is that..." Draco finished for her, "It's Potter."

And the little plane soared.

* * *

An: So Bad, Badder, or the Baddest?


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Matter of Mates

**Summary**: There is no way of knowing that a person is some bodies mate until the persons inheritance. Before that you could be anything friends, lovers, rivals, enemies, strangers anything. While being somebody mate does not necessarily ensure that you will be love. Such is the case of a Harry James Potter.

**Warnings**: Abuse, neglect, heartbreak, mentions of sex and rape, M-preg, yaoi/slash, M/M/M, language. FYI, not my problem if you don't listen to warnings ;)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own.

Today, I learned something. I'm not sure what.

* * *

Harry noticed that one of his thicker tomes that Hermione shoved on to him because she didn't have enough room was getting harder to pick up. Odd because he could pick it up pretty easily before despite his lithe body. Harry didn't give it much thought at the moment he simply carried the tome over to the extremely comfortable couch. He never gave it any real thought until a good long while after.

A his pen rolled under the desk. Now really he should just call Pixie to come summon it from underneath the desk. He wouldn't though, the ebony haired youth glanced at the snow falling outside his window, they were probably getting ready a Yule Ball or something. 'Sides it couldn't be that difficult to get the damned thing from under the desk.

So he stretched his arm far underneath the desk only a few millimeters away from his last usable pen. Which was the only thing he was willing to write with 'cause quills just plain sucked. Harry sulked a little at not being able to reach the pen, but then put his other hand underneath the desk to try to force it up. Growling in frustration Harry got up and stalked away to go find something to use as an extension of his arm.

It wasn't until midnight until the Potter thought of it again. The young adult was in his nice fluffy bed attempting to doze when the two memories connected. True he wasn't a very strong person by any means but he could've at least gotten the desk up a few inches. He shouldn't even had problems with lifting the tome. Harry got up and started pacing around the room. Why was it so difficult to lift things now? Sure, Harry was that strong but still. Why was it though? Why did lifting that tome up without much effort? Why could he not even move the desk? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why!?

The teenager plopped down on the couch tired. Merlin he felt so out of... breath. In that moment Harry realized why it had become so difficult. Merlin he was such a fool.

Had it really been that long?

* * *

Voldemort took over seized total control over the British Isle's. Not that it was too hard or anything the British Wizarding world gave up as soon as word spread that Death Eaters Kidnapped the Savior in broad daylight. Talk about low morals.

It was time for the first of many annual Yule New Ministry Balls. The only difference from the only Ministry held Yule balls was that this one was had the word new in it. Rich influential people from all over the world were coming to attend the 'historical turn' for the British. Seeing how it was also the inauguration ceremony for the new Minister of Magic, Lord Voldemort.

Admittedly the man has done some good. He changed the school system's, now education was free and less restrictive (more class choses), creatures weren't 2nd class citizens anymore, small stuff really that would change after the war ended... probably. But that man was evil, the living breathing reincarnation of evil.

A man in dark robes snarled at his thoughts before turning to his compatriots, his fellow rebels. That monster had to be annihilated, he nodded to the others, soon.

* * *

The paper was discarded to the side in a crumpled ball. Merlin be damned he was getting nowhere. Furious emerald eyes glared at the paper before him as if it had committed a serious offense against him, which it hadn't. He refused to even look back and acknowledge the mountain of paper that had piled up behind him.

"How'd it get so bad

What am I to do

Why can't things just go right...

For once."

Harry sang piteously. His eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling as he continued the song.

"Where'd it all go wrong

Why aren't things just right

What did I ever do to deserve this."

His guard stood outside contentedly listening to the haunting melody.

"Things keep falling down

Gravity works against us

How could things get so bad without notice."

Harry absent mindedly picked up the pen as he hummed the song. Not paying attention to what he was writing as he continued to sing.

"Just a scratch beneath the surface

Where all the secrets lie

That is where all of my problems began."

Harry could do this. He could write a story. A story just for him.

* * *

"Father?" The Malfoy heir softy rapped his knuckles on the door. "Come in," came the expected reply.

The younger blond waited until he had his fathers absolute attention before beginning.

"I was wondering father," he tried not to show his nervousness as he continued, "What the Dark Lord was planning to do with the boy."

Lucius could read the nervousness of his son having much more experience dealing with people in masks. The question unnerved him though he couldn't mean... "The Potter boy is whom I assume you mean."

He continued at his son's affirmative reply. "And what would you do if I told you what we were going to do with him."

"I'd ask if I could keep Potter as a pet if it wasn't anything overly important," the younger replied without missing a beat. He had obviously put a lot of thought into this.

That made a sudden spike of jealousy throb through the elder Malfoy.

"No."

How very unsettling.

* * *

The handsome features of Tom Marvolo Riddle were kept carefully blank as he contemplated his little prisoner; Harry Potter.

The boy was such a torn in his side he was so... So light and self-centered and everything he would detest in a mate. He couldn't kill him that would mess his already volatile magic up. That boy always had to make things difficult he would not simply lie down and die.

Well he was almost glad. Now he could have vicious fast paced sex to ease frustration and anger that wouldn't harm his precious mate Lucius.

The greatest dark lord of all time ruthlessly squashed down the small part of himself that said he was lying.

* * *

"Hop, Step, Jump."

Harry knew exactly where this song came from unlike most of the songs he sang. He almost regretted knowing, remembering.

"Drew, Drawn, Draw."

It was the middle of summer and while he was sleeping something woke him up. He could hear a faint murmuring in the background. The teen heard the lyrics of the song first and then he heard the faint moan... amoo? He wasn't sure and he didn't want to find out.

"Chips, Syrup, Whipcream."

The song was quite nice though. Catchy too.

* * *

Harry has this game of his. The dream game as he called it. It was when he planned what he would do if (when) he was free from all of this. All the game really consisted of was him saying what he would like to do when he got out. What was most important and what has gotta be his favorite activity that he missed the most.

First thing he was going to do was drink some liquor. He was of age and he wanted to get drunk and stuff. Next he was gonna go on a shopping spree get new clothes cause these one sucked and after he was going to go to a magical amusement park and then a muggle one. He might travel after that see the world discover all the different types of magic.

But he wouldn't... he wouldn't stay in Britain. He just wouldn't, couldn't stay in Britain magical or muggle. There were too many memories and he has had too much time to contemplate those memories, hell he has had a lot of time to contemplate everything. The subtle gestures and odd coincidences especially after he was able to use occlomency. He tried not to think of it too much, tried not to think about the fact that in all the months he has been captured there has not been a single disturbance he tried not to think too hard about it. Like he was now.

Back to the game, he was going to settle down buy a nice little house, fall in love, get married, and... and... and...

* * *

There were three doors. When Harry practiced Occlumency during his free time (i.e. most of the time) he came across three unknown doors. Truthfully there were four doors but one of them lead to a room that held all of his memories.

Harry didn't know where the doors lead or what they were even for. He couldn't open them; which he found odd considering it was supposed to be _his _mindscape so he had to be able to go anywhere, at least according to the books. Yet the only place he was able to go into was his room.

They belonged though because when Harry looked at the doors or even thought of them he couldn't help but feel a sense of rightness. The only thing Harry thought would explain this was the doors weren't his, they belonged to somebody else. Not that he could figure out why something like that was in his mind.

So the last living Potter ignored it. Ignored it till he couldn't ignore it anymore. Harry ignored it until his curiosity became too much and he knocked on one of the doors.

* * *

Severus Snape, the bat of the dungeons, barely even twitched as he felt his mate try to reach through their mate link. Severus tried reaching out to his mate before but all the attempts never reached his mate. So no, Severus wouldn't answer his mates call not his time and not the next. He would let his mate stew for a bit feel as rejected as he did then he would go see his mate

After all even a greasy old dungeon bat like him wanted to live happily ever after with his perfect somebody.

With that Severus went back to the latest potions book.

* * *

An: Done! sooooooo This is a foursome should've mentioned that and yeah! Hope you enjoyed.


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